The Journal
by eawriter42192
Summary: When a curse erases Hermione Granger's memory, only one man and one story can hope to bring her memories back. Back after a really, really long writer's block.
1. Chapter 1

**Ello! First Harry Potter story so don't shoot! This is based off 'The Notebook' but it will become less dependent on it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anyhting. JKRowling owns all Harry Potterdom and will eventually take over the world...maybe she needs an assistant...**

**Anywho R&R!**

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Chapter One

"Ms. Granger, are you awake?"

Hermione Granger turned her eyes away from her window and to the familiar healer in the acid green robes. Healer Davidson approached Hermione cautiously, not wanting to frighten her.

"Sweetie, remember me? Healer Davidson?" When Hermione smiled slightly at her she went to help Ms. Granger out of her chair. Hermione thanked Healer Davidson and went into her bathroom to freshen up for the day. Her faded brown hair was as unmanageable as ever and her eyes were bloodshot from reading late in the night. A light knock on the door woke Hermione out of her daze. She stuck her out the door as Healer Davidson answered to knock. As the door opened, a tall, ginger haired man stepped into the frame.

"Ah, Duke, right on time. Ms. Granger," the healer turned to Hermione, "this is Duke he's here to read to you today. Would you like that?" Hermione looked hesitant, "You'll like him, he's really funny." Duke smiled. Hermione walked forward and followed Duke out the door and down to the study on the first floor.

"So, do you live here too?" Hermione asked. She was very curious as to who this stranger was. He smiled, once again, and simply said, "I haven't been here too long. Got some old battle wounds that have been acting up recently." Hermione looked confused. "I fought during the second war." Her face relaxed and began questioning again.

"So what are you going to read?" He held up a leather bound book with his freckly hand. "It's a good old story. You might recognize it, but it still deserves to be heard again. So, shall we begin?" Hermione nodded and he flipped the cover to the first page.

"I am no one special, just a common man with common thoughts. I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me. And my name will one day be forgotten. But in one respect, I've succeeded as gloriously as anyone who ever lived. I've loved another with all my heart and soul and for me that has always been enough. I have felt my heart overwhelmed with love and broken by despair and loss…"

"Amazing opening statement."

Duke looked up at his companion, "Yes it is. Now, the story starts…"

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Any questions? Okey-pokey! R&R! 


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back...after a ten month break! Wickedly sorry about that folks. I have writer ADD, I'll start something and won't touch it for years. Again, I apologize. Just to clear stuff up, this IS supposed to be similar to The Notebook. I have no intention to steal stuff from either The Notebook (though I really wouldn't mind getting Ryan Gosling for my brithday) or Harry Potter (again, wouldn't mind Rupert Grint...or Ron) so I thank both for letting me drabble in their worlds.**

_-em_

**Oh, and please review!!!**_

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Twenty-two years ago…_

"Hermione, we studied yesterday! Why do we have to go over this again?" Ron Weasley plopped down in the crimson chair. He, Ron, and Hermione had spent all of the night before studying for their NEWTs, and now his bushy-haired companion was asking them more questions of how to properly brew a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

"Why, Ronald?" Hermione's voice became a high shrill, "Because we have four days until the biggest test of our lives and you haven't studied for more than a total of three hours! That's why!"

Harry remained quiet, much like he did nowadays. Ever since the final battle, he was much more reserved, speaking only when necessary. Most people figured thought it was because he was so traumatized from the battle with Voldemort, but Ron, Hermione, and Ginny knew the real reason: He felt responsible for the deaths of so many people. Going back to Hogwarts had helped get his mind off it, but he kept his deep thoughts open only to his true friends.

"But 'Mione," Ron had resulted to whining, "I can't fit anything more into my brain! Besides, we've got _life_ experience, better than anything a stupid book could teach us." He did have a point, although Hermione would never admit it. If he wanted a fight, then that's exactly what he would get from her.

"Just because we fought against Voldemort and the deatheaters doesn't mean we'll automatically pass! I don't remember Herbology or Astronomy or Ancient Runes having much to do with the Final Battle, do _you_ Ronald?"

"No, I don't recall them Hermione, but if I remember correctly, _you're_ the one who actually _cares_ about the NEWTs. Harry's automatically going to get into the Auror's academy; they would be insane _not_ to accept him. And I'm probably going to get in too; after all, helping to defeat the darkest wizard of our time has to come with some advantages."

Hermione got up from her chair and snapped her potions book shut. She looked Ron dead in the eye, practically seething with aggravation, "You don't get it, do you Ron. I study hard in hopes that my efforts will get me to what I want in the future, not expecting it to be given to me. I care about the NEWTs; I care about what I do with my life. So sorry I wasted _your_ time caring about yours too."

Ron stared at her, taken aback. In a way, he felt that this had turned into something far different from study habits. Her eyes held no spark that he associated with Hermione and arguing. They only stared at him, full of pain and hopelessness. By the time Ron realized he had caused that reaction in her, Hermione was already out of view up into the girls' dormitories. Ron sat down once again, running his fingers through the disheveled ginger mop atop his head.

"Why do I have to bugger everything up all the bloody time?"

Harry stared at his friend, trying to find a way for this conversation _not_ to get awkward. "Well," he began cautiously, "you do have a tendency to say very stupid things when you're arguing. And it probably wouldn't hurt to…express your feelings better."

"Express my feelings! I thought she got the point that I don't _want_ to study. She should leave it there and let me fail." Harry sighed.

"That's not what I meant Ron. We all know how you really feel about her. So just get it over with already. And if you're worried that she doesn't feel the same way, remember that she cares enough about you to want you to be successful."

Ron gaped at Harry, trying to grasp the concept he was proposing. "Harry, since when did you develop this prophetic-ness? It's starting to scare me."

Harry laughed and got up, stretching his arms over his head. "Funny how defeating a dark lord bent on taking over the world can do that to you. I'll see you in the morning. 'Night."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Alone in the common room, Ron was left to consider Harry's words. _Express your feelings better._ He tried that already. For a while after Dumbledore's death, Ron and Hermione had seemed to find comfort in one another, when they weren't trying to make Harry open up more, that is. Once the fall came, however, they returned to their normal selves, minus the bickering. They stayed that way until the night before the Final Battle. Harry could sense Voldemort planning something big, and rallied the "troops" in preparation. That was the night that they placed the protection charm on the three of them. Hermione had found it while researching an ancient magic book. The spell required each of them to place a tattoo on the back of the other's neck. Ron placed a phoenix just below Hermione's hairline while she in turn, placed a griffin on Ron. Both of them put a dragon, seeing as it was corresponding with Ginny's joke, on Harry's neck and after muttering the incantations, the spell was complete.

The tattoos were charmed to burn at any strong emotion that the wearer or applier showed. And right now, the griffin on Ron's neck was itching. _Just bloody well great, she's either barking mad or crying. And I'm not sure which one I'd rather be dealing with at the moment. _

As he went to get up, Ginny came into the common room from the girls' staircase. The foreboding expression on her freckled face told Ron he wasn't going to like seeing her right then. Pretending to be on his way up to bed, he grabbed the stack of remaining books and nearly ran to the boys' dorms. Surprisingly, he made it up before Ginny could say anything, silently thanking his long legs. He tossed the books onto the chest at the foot of his four-post when a stern voice echoed up to the room, "Fine! Hide you little gnome, but keep in mind that you're only hurting yourself!"

Dean stuck his head out of the draperies on his bed muttering, "I think you're saving yourself, mate. What did you do to piss her off so much? This time, I mean."

Ron glared at him before changing into his pyjama bottoms and rolling into bed. Not that he got much sleep, between thinking about what he had done to cause Hermione so much pain and fantasizing about the numerous naughty ways he could make it up to her. It was just about two o'clock; Ron had moved on to include whipped topping in his fantasy, when the dormitory door was opened and a weary redhead bowled into the room. She immediately went to the bed on the far right, pulling back the hangings to see her sleeping brother.

"Oh get up you wanker. I can't stand it anymore; you're coming with me and you are going to fix whatever you messed up." Ron was vaguely aware that he was being dragged out of bed at such an ungodly hour when he realized his _little sister_ was in the boys' dorm. Unable to work his mouth at a time like this, he allowed Ginny to pull him down the staircase and into the dimly lit common room. In the chair nearest to the fire was the outline of the star of his dreams. Ginny pushed him into the seat across from her and said harshly, "Neither of you are to leave this room until you've made up. I'm sick of you all bickering all the time. If you keep it up, you're going to end up ruining your friendship. I expect full cooperation by sun up."

Neither Ron, nor Hermione looked up as Ginny went back to bed. Now that he was closer, Ron could see that Hermione's eyes were bloodshot and she had dried tear tracks on her cheeks. _Bloody hell, I _did_ make her cry…shite!_

Hermione was pulling at a loose strand on her robe, not trusting herself to look Ron in the eye. Ron couldn't help but think she looked absolutely lovable, sitting in her favorite armchair, legs tucked neatly under her body in such a Hermione-esque way. Yet, with his feelings of adoration, a heart-twisting pang of guilt struck him when he saw the look of insecurity and loneliness etched on her face.

"Look, 'Mione," he decided a forward approach might be best at this point, "I didn't mean make you upset. I took it too far this time. I'm really, really sorry."

She looked ready to say something but thought better of it and closed her mouth again. A moment of silence later, she did speak, though it was scratchy and strained.

"I just wish you would see I'm trying to help. I know I'm a right terror to study with, let alone be friends with, but I just want you to do your best."

Ron's heartstring's clenched when she said she was a bad friend, more so when he saw the truth and pure honesty in her eyes. She really did want him to be better than average, and she would do all in her power to help him be his best.

"You're smart, Ron, you can't hide that any longer. What you came up with during the battle, even preparatory measures was…I could _never_ do that type of strategy, no matter what I do. But then when we're here, it's like fantasy world. You don't care about grades or learning; you're here for the party! I get so frustrated knowing that you have all this potential, all this untapped ability, yet you don't apply yourself. Ever since I met you I've been trying to get you to realize that you _can_ do amazing things, academic or otherwise…" She trailed off meekly. Her face was hidden by the piles of curls and wisps.

Ron waited for her to move; she had gone deathly still and silent since she last spoke. After minutes of silence, Ron walked towards her, and knelt by her side at the fireside chair. Tucking his large feet under himself, Ron reached to rub her back, hoping to encourage her to at least look at him.

He continued the soothing circles for minutes, chasing the curls he would hit on one swipe back into their rightful place on another. She still didn't respond. Her back was moving up and down in a steady breathing rhythm, but that was all she moved. Ron looked towards her face, hoping to see some change. He didn't see her face for she was too well hidden behind the curtain she made with her hair, but he did see one silver drop fall onto her dressing robe.

"'Mione?"

She didn't look at him still. Ron reached to brush her hair behind her ear when a shuddering gasp broke the warm silence. More followed until she was gasping for air, but still, she hid her face. A sudden jolt of pain hit Ron in the back of his neck. The pain subsided after the initial shock, but never went away, staying at a dull throb.

Hermione caught her breath, trying to push the tears away with her hands. Ron's freckled hands kept up the calming tattoo on her back, wordlessly telling her to relax and take her time. After what seemed like ages, she spoke, barely audible enough to understand.

"I've let you down. I've let everyone down."

Her head started swaying back and forth as if disciplining herself. Ron was utterly confused. _She let everyone down? What is she on about?_

"Hermione, what are you talking about, love?"

She looked down at him, the pain in his neck becoming more prominent. Her face was deathly pale, causing the light dusting of freckles on her nose to become more apparent. The brown eyes he was so used to seeing gleaming with knowledge and spirit were broken, defeated and upset. His father had always said that a woman's eyes were the mirror to her soul. He just then understood the meaning of that phrase. She was ashamed of herself for…for being useless. To Hermione, the worst thing should could ever do was not help or let herself be inadequate. _She thinks she's useless? She bloody well told Harry how to defeat that bastard and she thinks she didn't do anything?_

"Ron, I…I let you down. I've always tried so hard…so hard to get you to realize how special you are. You were always going on about how you were nothing compared to your brothers. You're twice the man any of them are. You stayed by Harry's side no matter what. That's what you've done since we were eleven. But to you, that's not worthy compared to Bill, or Charlie, or the twins. I've always wanted you to see yourself as I see you; you're the hero, Ron…you and Harry. All I do is sit on the side and spit out information. What have I ever done that's equal to you or Harry. Harry faced the darkest wizard of all time since he was eleven, he's been a sports star, a Triwizard Champion, he's taught people how to protect themselves, he launched a rescue mission for his godfather, _and_ he destroyed all the black pieces of Voldemort's soul. Then you, you sacrificed yourself for your best friend, saved my life, belched slugs for me, and through it all you've always been there for Harry, every step of the way. What's so special about me Ron? Nothing. Every talent I have, is because I can read and process information. That's all I'm good for. I didn't help Harry half as much as what you did, nor did I ever defend you or anyone else. I tag along and nag you two about homework and how you shouldn't do things. I'm a pathetic, worthless…"

"Hermione Granger don't you dare finish that sentence," Ron's voice was deadly calm and strong, "You are **not** worthless! Not by any standards. Why do you think Harry can do half the things he does? Because he has a natural ability at it? I'll admit, Harry is powerful, but if he went into some of the situations he faces without any research about it, he would have been dead back at the Devil's Snare in first year! And so would I for that matter. You are _so _much more than the brains, 'Mione. So much more. You protect us in a different way. You keep us alive on a day to day basis. Without you, Harry and I would be nothing, literally. You're the brightest witch in decades, sure, but the things you do keep us sane and grounded. Bloody… Do you really think Harry would have stayed sane if you weren't there when we looked for the Horcruxes? And me…As odd as it sounds, our arguing makes me feel…alive. You remember that night when we found Hufflepuff's Cup, but we nearly died 'cause of those Inferi? I was so close to giving up and just…I don't know…forgetting I was human. I felt so dead in a sense. Nothing made sense. I was on autopilot, you could say. But then you came after me for not putting out the fire and we started rowing about how we could have been found. I snapped out of whatever I was in because of you. You are my life. Whenever I'm around you I feel…so alive and ready for whatever life gives me because you're there to help me and keep me in check and face it too. I…I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

Hermione stared at him intently as the remainder of her tears dwindled to a stain on her cheek. She was searching his eyes for any shred of truth in his words, hoping that his feelings were genuine and real. Ron saw her weary hesitation and tried a different way to send her what he felt. He closed his eyes in concentration for a moment, searching to tag a specific feeling and send it to her. Hermione gasped as the phoenix on her neck started creating a circulation of the senses Ron had voiced minutes ago: shock, respect, graciousness, consolation, reverence, and…love? Another shockwave of emotions hit her through their transmitter on their necks. Love. That was definitively the strongest one, no doubt.

She started tearing up again, though the tears were infinitely happier this time. She smiled gently and sent the same feelings back, focusing especially on the last she was sent. Ron smiled in return, giving her a new version of the Weasley grin, one that was reserved only for her.

"I…I love you, 'Mione. A lot more than a friend would."

She threw herself off the chair into his lap, letting a mix between a sigh of contentment and a light laugh out in the process. They stared at each other again. Ron delved into her chocolate orbs searching for her true feelings. Sure enough, there was only love…pure, radiating, summer sun warm, love. Tentatively, his face inched closer to hers, tilting slightly to the right. Just as he was close enough to brush his lips with hers, Hermione's hands reached up into his hair, effectively pulling him to her, kissing her fully and wholly. They pulled away a moment later with only enough space between them to rest their foreheads together. Both the phoenix and griffin were buzzing in excitement and undeniable affection.

Looking straight into his eyes, Hermione whispered, "Then I guess I love you too, Ronald Weasley. A lot more than anyone, let alone friend, can."

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I realize this might be a little jumpy, so I apologize if it bothers anyone. Cheers! 


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